


the isle

by waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: Phil lives alone in a house on a hill. It’s easier to hide himself away than face people looking at him like he’s a freak.One day he makes the mistake of tripping into a stranger’s arms and he’s forced on a journey of confronting the idea that maybe he deserves - and wants - to be seen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Londonbound23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Londonbound23/gifts).



He lives in a house on a hill. It’s modest and old, made of white brick with a red door and a stone path that leads down to the beach.

There are no other houses around it, just rock and grass, cliff and sky, and out a little further, sea. He can see the beach from his bedroom window and the fog that rolls over the water in the early hours of morning.

There aren’t many people walking the sandy shore this time of year save a brave few, bundled up and braced against wind that cuts with an icy bite. 

It’s a remote part of a small island, and that suits him just fine. 

He lives alone, which suits him too. His brother moved to London a long time ago and his friends exist only in text messages and promises to meet up soon, but he’s got a mum and a dad who live on the other side of the island and a smattering of relatives here and there. Town is close enough to walk to if he fancies a trek and the sound of people living lives more normal than his. 

He could learn how to drive, but he doesn’t. The roads are narrow and winding and his hands are never steady, his attention always pulled in too many directions to focus on any one thing for too long.

Walking is good and usually he kind of likes the burn in his calves and the tightness he feels in his chest by the time he makes it into town, but today the sky is grey and rain drizzles down lazily, the kind that’ll seep cold all the way down to his bones.

He takes the bus. It’s empty apart from the driver and a little old lady at the front, knitting what looks to be a baby-sized jumper. She’s chatting with the driver but pauses to smile and offer a hello as he drops his fare into the box. He could get a pass but he likes the way the coins clink. He smiles and returns her greeting before choosing a seat near the back to watch the grey and green out the window. 

He’s got no particular aim today, no specific errands to run besides breathing air that hasn’t already recycled through his lungs and seeing faces that aren’t filtered through the pixels of his laptop. He’ll keep a careful distance and make sure to leave his hands shoved in the pockets of his fleece lined denim jacket, but he knows it’s good to spend some time in the real world every now and again.

He gets off the bus as soon as it reaches the edge of town, eager to walk some feeling back into his legs. The rain is mostly just mist now and the ride had been long and twisty enough that the travel sickness is swirling sour in his gut. The cold moisture in the air is actually a relief.

He wanders in and out of shops just to see what they sell and watch the people within them. He buys a candle that smells like peppermint and chocolate and a jumper with a little picture of a cactus on the front. He’s careful not to touch the girl’s hand when she hands him the bag. 

Next is a cute coffee shop with colourful art on the walls and baristas with arms that are more tattoo than skin. He gets something that sounds sweet and takes it to go.

The coffee is his downfall. He’s got the cup in one hand, extra large and hot against his palm and his bag in the other and he’s not paying attention to where the pavement dips and suddenly his shoe is catching and he’s falling forward, spilling coffee all down his arm before he reaches out blindly to try to save himself crashing to the ground.

His fist finds something warm and solid and closes around it and his head explodes. A wave of emotion too intense and negative to even process wracks through him and his vision goes black from the outside edges in. 

When he wakes up there are arms around him squeezing so tight he can’t breathe properly. His hand throbs with the pain of being coated in hot milk and espresso but it’s barely more than a twinge compared to the agony pounding heavy against the inside of his skull.

“Mate, holy fuck. Are you alright?”

Someone is speaking to him. He can hear it, a deepish voice with a southern accent right close to his ear and he knows he’s supposed to form words to answer the question but his tongue feels too thick for his mouth, his throat constricted and his lungs aching. His knees buckle and he feels himself falling, but slowly.

Someone is holding him up, keeping him from cracking his head open on the pavement. He’s tall and his weight is dead, so he still meets the ground but it’s controlled by the arms crushing his chest. 

“Can you sit?” the voice asks. 

He can, slumped over into the kind stranger who for some reason has seen fit not to push him away and shout at him for being a clumsy idiot. 

“Should I call an ambulance?”

That jolts some sense into him. Phil shakes his head and forces himself to sit up and support his own weight. It’s been so long, so long since he let himself make the mistake of feeling this. He’d forgotten how much it could take from him, how instantly it could deplete his faculties. 

This may be the worst it’s ever felt, though. He’s never fainted before.

“Mate, your skin is fucking white as a sheet. I really think you need a doctor.”

“No,” he croaks. “I’m fine. Sorry for—” He gestures weakly. “I’ll be fine. I’m fine.” 

“You just spilled boiling hot coffee all over yourself and passed out in my arms, man. You’re not fine.”

“I’m sorry.” He holds his head in his hands and tries to breathe through the nausea. 

“What’s your name?”

He can’t think of a reason not to say it, so he just says it. “Phil.”

“Phil. Are you diabetic?”

“No.”

“Are you ill in some way?” the stranger asks. Phil doesn’t understand why he hasn’t bailed yet.

“No,” Phil says. “I’m alright, really. I’m good. You don’t have to—”

“I can’t just leave you on the pavement like this, mate. Give me something to work with here. D’you live nearby?”

“Kinda.” Something is stuck in Phil’s brain now, lodged in the corners and spreading a cold emptiness into his chest. He knows it’s not meant to be there. It’s not emotion that actually belongs to him. It belongs to this strange man with a strong arm around his shoulders. Has it been there the whole time?

“D’you have a car?”

Phil shakes his head. “Took the bus.” He’s looking down at the pavement, afraid to meet the eyes of the person in front of whom he’s utterly humiliated himself.

Afraid to meet the eyes of the man whose innermost fears are swirling around Phil’s own head right now. 

“Are you alone?”

“Very,” Phil mumbles, before actually thinking about what he’s saying.

“And you really don’t want to go to hospital?”

Phil shakes his head. “No need. I’m— I’ll be fine. Just need a minute or two. This… happens sometimes.”

“You’re not like— you’re not drunk are you? Or like, strung out?”

Phil whips his head up at that. “No!” The eyes he meets are dark and ringed with blue fatigue, which makes sense. It matches the heaviness in Phil’s heart.

“Ok. Sorry.”

Phil looks down again. “S’fine.”

“I reckon you need to let me take you home.”

“What?”

“My car’s parked just down the street.”

“No,” Phil says, slightly panicked. “I’ve already ruined your day enough—” He tries to stand and his legs wobble like they’re boneless. Somehow this guy is already stood up and catching Phil again like it’s his job.

He’s tall. And strong enough to support Phil's weight without making it seem like a big deal.

“Mate.”

Phil can’t really argue again. He’s genuinely not sure he can do anything right now but sit on the curb and rock back and forth trying not to vomit. He’s just going to have to trust that this bloke isn’t a serial killer who preys on pathetic clumsy morons who fling their coffee at him in the street. 

“I don’t know if I can—” Phil presses some weight down on his feet and his thighs shake. “My legs feel weird.” The embarrassment heats his cheeks. If he doesn’t get a grip on himself soon he’s going to start crying and that’s a level of humiliation he’s quite sure he can’t withstand. 

The guy reaches for Phil’s arm and Phil jerks back.

“Uh, sorry, I was just gonna help—”

“Sorry,” Phil mutters. He’s never actively wanted to cease existing until this precise moment. He shakes the sleeves of his shirt down over his fists and lifts his arm tentatively.

The guy gives him a look but doesn’t say anything as Phil drapes his arm around the back of the stranger’s neck and leans his weight against him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re a strange person.”

The defeat is plain in Phil’s voice when he says, “Yeah.” 

They walk slowly down the pavement and turn onto a side street, stopping when they come to a beat up looking green car. There are a couple suitcases piled in the back and what looks like a pillow shoved down under the back of the passenger seat.

“It looks like shit but it runs fine,” the guy says.

Phil just nods. Whatever his fate may be, he’s accepted it now. The guy opens the passenger door for Phil and helps him in. 

Phil leans his head against the window and sighs at the relief of the cold glass against his overheated skin. The guy walks around and gets in on his side and starts the car. “Where are we going?”

Phil tells him the address.

“You’ll have to direct me,” the guys says. “I’m… new in town. Also, I’m Dan by the way.”

“Oh,” Phil says and even to his own ears he sounds a little drunk. “Dan. Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry I threw coffee on you and made you into my personal caretaker,” Phil says. 

Dan just gives a little chuckle. “Reckon it’s a good thing I was there to catch you or you might have a busted up face right now.”

“Yeah.” Phil doesn’t say that he’d take a busted face over the turmoil that invaded his brain like a tumour the instant their hands touched. He’d really have no way of explaining that. 

They don’t speak again for the rest of the ride except when Phil has to give directions. If he didn’t feel so awful he might be able to register awkwardness in the silence, but as it is he has to close his eyes and breathe deeply just to keep himself under control.

“Wow,” Dan says as he pulls into Phil’s drive. “This is…”

Phil’s not listening. He’s pushing the door open and stumbling out so he can be sick in the grass and not in a stranger’s car. He feels a hand on his back and despite everything he still has room to feel deeply embarrassed.

Everything hurts, both inside and out but strangely, he feels better once his stomach is empty. 

“Phil.”

Phil straightens up and wipes his mouth on his jacket and finds that he can actually support his weight on his own now. He looks at Dan and something else nestles in between the sense of dread that’s lodged into Phil’s chest - something warm. Dan’s hand is still on Phil’s back, rubbing gently right between his shoulder blades.

“Sorry,” Phil croaks. His throat burns and his mouth tastes disgusting.

“Are you alright?” The concern sounds so genuine.

“I feel a bit better now. Thanks for the ride. I can—” He shoves a hand into his pocket to fish out his wallet.

“You’re not gonna give me money are you?” Dan asks.

“Um.”

“I’m not a fucking taxi driver.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Phil mutters. “I just feel bad.”

“You just sicked all over your garden and burnt the shit out of your hand mate, of course you feel bad. C’mon, you need to get inside and rest.”

“Ok.” Phil retrieves his bag from Dan’s car with a strange feeling of loss in his chest. “Well. Thanks. I hope your day gets better from here.”

Dan looks at Phil like he’s well and truly an idiot. “M’not leaving you like this. Unless there’s someone inside waiting for you?”

He could lie. He probably should, to spare this kind and likely troubled stranger having to act on the responsibility he seems to feel for making sure Phil is ok. 

He could lie and it would be a kindness, but suddenly Phil realizes he really doesn’t want to. He wants Dan to stay.

“I don’t,” he says quietly. “I’m alone.” 

“Let’s go then.” Dan gestures to Phil’s house. “Can you walk now?”

“I think so.”

He’s a bit shaky and his head is still pounding but walking he can do. Dan matches his pace and keeps his eyes on Phil all the way up to the front door where Phil digs his keys out and prays he hasn’t left the place too much of a mess.

“You really don’t have to worry about me,” Phil says as he opens the door. He can’t not say it. “I’ll be fine.”

“D’you want me to fuck off?” Dan asks. 

Phil looks at him. He looks so tired. Phil _knows_ he’s tired. He knows Dan is sad and tired and scared because he feels it.

He also knows Dan is good. He knows Dan is good because he’s already proven that he is, and maybe Phil’s not quite ready to be alone again. He could use some good.

“No.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Dan’s eyes are the prettiest brown Phil’s ever seen.

“Yes.”

Dan steps inside and Phil follows, closing the door behind them. Dan shrugs off his coat and kicks off his shoes like he’s at home already. 

“You should sit. Or like, lie down,” Dan says.

Phil drops his coat on the floor without even a thought of hanging it up. “Actually, I was thinking of taking a quick shower?”

Dan frowns. “If you fall you’ll break your neck and die and then I’ll be blamed for your murder probably.”

“You haven’t touched anything yet,” Phil says. “No fingerprints.”

“I’ll just stand here while you shower then,” Dan says. He picks Phil’s coat up. “If you’re not out in like ten minutes I’m making a break for it.”

“Guess I gotta make it quick.”

“Yeah sorry mate, no shower wanks today.”

Phil feels his face go red.

“Sorry,” Dan mutters. 

“Sit,” Phil says. “Make yourself comfortable. Please. I’ll shower really quick and I swear on my mum’s life I won’t fall. Or wank.”

Dan almost smiles, Phil can tell. “For all I know you hate your mum.”

“No one hates Kath, least of all her socially awkward accident prone son,” Phil says, watching as Dan hangs up both of their coats.

“Ok fine,” Dan says. “Go shower. Reckon if you’re trusting a complete stranger unsupervised in your house I can trust you not to die, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil agrees. 

He showers quickly as promised and without touching his dick except for a second to rub soap on it. He does kind of wish he could take his time because the hot water feels amazing on his tense muscles but the thought of an actual real life person in his kitchen waiting for him keeps him on track.

He brushes his teeth vigorously and lotions his whole body with the nice stuff that smells manly and expensive and not like a cupcake or a fruit basket. For a moment he contemplates trying to find an outfit that makes him look like he has his life together but then he remembers that ship had sailed before he even knew Dan’s name and he puts on his new cactus jumper and a pair of dark grey sweats.

The smell of coffee is in the air when he finds Dan sat at the little table in the kitchen with two steaming mugs in front of him.

“You made coffee,” Phil says. 

“Hope that’s alright. Figured you probably needed one. Didn’t know what to put in it though.”

Phil turns his back to fetch milk from the fridge. If this guy does one more selfless thing Phil’s going to start crying and he reckons he’s made fool of himself enough for one day. “Thanks,” he says gruffly. 

He sits across from Dan and takes a long drink even though it’s too hot. It’s strong and Phil feels himself perk up a little almost instantly.

“Feeling better?” Dan asks.

Phil nods. “Hand hurts a bit.”

“Drugs?”

“Nah, it’s fine. My head hurts a lot worse but drugs don’t… I’m kind of like, immune to them.”

Dan frowns. “Isn’t that a bad sign? What if you’ve got a tumour in there or like, an aneurysm or something?”

He slaps his palm to his face before Phil actually has a chance to respond. “I shouldn’t speak.”

“I don’t,” Phil says. “I don’t have a— I just… get headaches sometimes.”

“Like migraines?”

“Um… yeah. Like migraines, I guess.”

That’s a good cover, Phil reckons. It’s not _entirely_ inaccurate.

“D’you need to lie down?” Dan asks. “I can stop talking entirely. Or leave, if you want.”

“Shower and coffee helped loads,” Phil says. “But yeah, I’m fine now. You definitely don’t need to stay out of obligation or guilt that I’m about to drop dead.”

“Alright,” Dan says. “Just lemme finish this and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“That’s not…” 

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. They’re strangers to each other. He can’t explain why the thought of Dan leaving makes him feel weird. He can’t explain it to himself let alone to Dan.

“How do you feel about video games?” Phil blurts.

“I feel quite favourably toward them actually, thanks for asking.” Dan smirks. 

“How do you feel about playing video games with a stranger?”

They relocate to the lounge and Phil sets up Mario Kart. They end up playing until the sun goes down and instead of asking Dan to leave Phil just asks him what he likes on his pizza. 

They don’t really talk. When the food arrives they switch to Netflix and eat their dinner right there on opposite ends of the sofa.

Phil keeps waiting for Dan to stand up and say he has to go, and Dan keeps not doing that. His ankles are crossed on the coffee table in front of him and he’s clutching a cushion tight to his chest. Phil keeps stealing glances just to watch the way the light from the telly falls against the curves of his face. 

It’s dark but he can still see how tired Dan looks, how small despite the length of his legs and the broadness of his shoulders. Even if he couldn’t feel it, Phil can still see it. Dan is tired, and not the kind that can be fixed with a good night’s sleep. 

It’s late when Phil stands up to stretch and he’s sure Dan will follow suit and apologize for staying all day but he just looks up and watches Phil with his tired eyes and nods when Phil says he needs a wee.

Phil finds he doesn’t mind. He brushes his teeth again and takes note of his own dark circles and heavy eyelids and chooses not to analyze the fact that he’s prepared to pull an all nighter just to see how long Dan will push this thing.

Dan’s head is slumped to the side and his breathing deep and even when Phil returns to the lounge only a few minutes later. He stands there a moment wondering what to do. Would it be worse to let him sleep or wake him up just to kick him out?

The thing is… Phil doesn’t want to kick him out. Not even now. Not even in the middle of the night. Dan looks so peaceful like this, the pillow still hugged tight between his arms, a strand of wavy brown hair brushing his eyebrow. What kind of monster would Phil be to wake him up now?

He decides after a while that he’s already made a number of questionable decisions over the course of the day, what’s the harm in making one more? If Dan was going to murder him he’d likely have done it by now. And asleep he looks about twelve. Not that Phil knows how old he actually is.

Or anything really. All he knows is that Dan is good at Mario Kart and makes his coffee strong. He likes parma ham and rocket on his pizza and he was kind enough to take care of Phil when he needed it.

Phil fetches a blanket and drapes it over Dan, lightly so as not to wake him. He lowers the volume on the telly and turns off the lights, and when he heads up the stairs to his bedroom it’s with a slight feeling of reluctance.

When he comes back down the next morning the blanket is folded neatly on the arm of the sofa and Dan is long gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Having breakfast alone is familiar. Standing at the sink with a bowl of cereal in hand and milk dribbling down his chin while he watches out the window as the waves crash against the rocks is familiar. Making a half pot of coffee instead of full because there’s no one else here to help him drink it is familiar.

Usually Phil likes familiar. Today familiar feels lonely.

He does the washing up from yesterday, plates with grease stains and tomato sauce smudges and bits of crust, the mug Dan drank from, one of Phil’s favourites, the purple one with the tiny chip in the rim. He might convince himself yesterday was a dream if not for these little pieces of evidence. And the blanket, folded up and carefully placed

Dan left no note, no scribbled thank you, no hint of an intention to hang out again. No number.

Phil should have asked for his number. 

But it was nice to have a friend, even if just for an afternoon. The emptiness looming in his chest will pass. Nothing is forever, not even the waves or the rolling of the clouds in the sky. Usually that thought makes him panic but today it feels like a comfort. This too shall pass.

He rings his mum. He’s been avoiding it for nearly a week but now the urge to hear her voice is desperate, even if what she has to say makes him feel bad.

“Alright, love? I was about to send your father over there and make sure you hadn’t fallen and broken something.”

“Sorry mum. Been a bit… poorly.”

“Shall I come get you?”

This is familiar too, his mum longing to take care of him as if he were still a child, as if he were still the sickly child he was back then, as if her hands stroking his forehead and gentle lullabies could still cure all that ails him.

“I’m fine. On the mend,” he says.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.” 

“Been busy,” he lies. “But soon.”

She sighs. “It’s not good for you to be alone like that, Phil.”

“M’not. I had a… mate round yesterday.”

“Did you?” Her voice tilts up excitedly. Perhaps only slightly disbelieving. 

“Mhm.”

“That’s wonderful!” She’s far too happy about it. It makes Phil want to cry.

He changes the subject. They chat for a while about inane things and when Phil says goodbye and hangs up things feel ok. They feel familiar.

He has a shower, long and hot this time because no one’s waiting for him. He lets his hands wander, lets them grip and tug and make him feel what he wasn’t allowed to feel yesterday.

His skin is tinged pink from the heat and rubbed with lotion that smells like flowers as he gets dressed. He brings his laptop downstairs to the lounge and settles himself on the sofa after lighting his new candle. The air is a rich minty mocha when he opens his email to three videos that need editing. 

It’s the perfect distraction; he spends the next two days so buried in work that he forgets about the lonely boy with the pretty brown eyes who fell asleep on his sofa and disappeared in the night. 

On the third day he’s nearly finished cutting together the three videos, a new record even for him. His neck is stiff and his shoulders hunched, his ass numb from sitting on it so long. He really should invest in a proper desk and chair but at this point he equates pain with productivity and he’s too stuck in his ways to change anything.

He almost doesn’t hear the knock on the door. If it wasn’t such a foreign sound it probably would’ve blended right into the mind-numbing makeup tutorial he’s editing, just folded itself into the droning voice that has altogether too much to say about this particular shade of foundation. 

As it is it’s probably been something like a year or more since someone unexpected was at his doorstep so the sound rings out through the house like a siren. Phil’s heart beats nervous and quick as he sets his computer aside and hurries to answer it.

He pulls the door open and there stands Dan, looking more tired than ever. Tired and cold and beautiful like something right out of Phil’s imagination.

“Hey,” he croaks. His lips are chapped.

“Hi,” Phil says stupidly, just stood there in his doorway not knowing what else to say.

“You busy?” Dan asks.

“No.”

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “Fancy a walk?”

Phil grabs his coat. “It’ll be cold, d’you want a hat or something?”

“Do you have one?” Dan asks. His shoulders are already hunched up under his ears.

“Yeah, my aunt has a little business. She sends me stuff all the time. They’re mostly bobble hats…”

“Perfect,” Dan says. “That’s kind of adorable.”

“I guess. I don’t suit hats so I never wear them. I don’t know why she keeps sending them.”

“Will you humour me and wear one?” Dan asks.

Phil shrugs and grabs two out of the basket in the wardrobe at the entrance and hands one to Dan, who plonks it right over his waves. It’s one of the nicer ones, dark blue and grey with little flecks of white. 

“Looks good,” Phil murmurs.

“Put yours on,” Dan urges, stepping back to let Phil outside.

This one’s bright red and Phil would never in a million years wear it of his own volition but Dan cocks his head and studies him like he’s actually thinking. “You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“You suit hats.”

“Oh,” Phil says. He turns around to lock his door and escape Dan’s gaze. “Thanks.”

“How’s your head?”

“Oh, yeah. Much better, thanks.”

“No more fainting into random stranger’s arms?” Dan asks.

“Honestly, I haven’t left my house since. Barely even left the sofa.”

“No fainting into sofas, then?”

“No fainting,” Phil says. “I hereby absolve you of any and all guilt. You don’t have to check up on me.”

“That’s not— D’you want me to fuck off? If you’re busy or just like, don’t wanna hang out with a weird stranger I can—”

“That’s not it,” Phil interrupts. “Sorry. Just don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t.”

“Ok. Cool. Sorry.”

“Do you feel obligated to humour me because of the other day?” Dan asks.

“No.”

“For another reason?”

“What?” Phil asks. They’re just stood in his drive now.

“Like because I’m a sad loser with no friends?” Dan says. He’s so blunt in his assertion.

Phil shrugs. “I am too.”

“I just moved here,” Dan says.

Dan’s honesty is compelling. It makes Phil feel like he can be honest too. 

“I didn’t. I’ve been here my whole adult life and I’m _still_ a sad loser with no friends.” 

Dan studies him wordlessly for a beat before saying, “Let’s walk.”

“Cliffs or beach?”

It’s cold on the cliffs, even colder than Phil had expected. He’s glad he’d offered Dan a hat, though he’s still holding his arms across his chest and shrugging up his shoulders. They walk side by side and look out over the water and Phil has to mind himself not to stare.

He certainly had never expected he’d see Dan again. That afternoon was such a strange fever dream, an anomaly in the lonely monotony of his day to day that the shock of seeing Dan on his doorstep hasn’t even come close to wearing off.

They don’t talk, but it would be hard to do even if they wanted to. The wind is vicious, cutting into every exposed bit of skin like a burn and Phil wants to retreat back to his house but he also wants to keep walking forever. At least like this he’s not alone.

Dan turns to him after a while and half shouts, “I thought this would be nice but I’m freezing my fucking tits off.”

“Me too, but it’s still nice. Like, it’s nice to get out for a bit.”

“I guess.”

“Have you had enough of being out?” Phil asks.

Dan chuckles like Phil’s made a joke. Phil doesn’t get it but Dan’s laugh is bitter and he has the sinking feeling he’s said something wrong. 

Dan says, “It’s definitely exhausting sometimes.”

“We don’t have to stay out,” Phil says, his voice more hesitant than he’d intended.

Dan just shrugs.

“You can, like… come inside? If you want,” Phil says.

“You’re not busy?”

Phil shakes his head. “Never really busy.”

“Mate. I’m trying to give you an out.”

Phil squares his shoulders. “Maybe I don’t want one.”

“Great. Let’s go inside then, my balls are literally raisins.”

“I hope not literally,” Phil says.

“Have you got a vested interest in the state of my balls, then?” Dan almost smiles. 

Phil decides then and there to make it his mission in life to see Dan do a proper smile, even if it does come at the cost of extreme embarrassment.

Their pace is much quicker on the walk back knowing they’re headed for warmth and refuge from the relentless whistle of the wind in their ears. In the drive Phil peeks in through Dan’s car window and notices the pillow he’d seen shoved under the passenger seat is now lying on the back seat on top of a fuzzy black blanket. 

He’s not going to ask. But he _is_ going to tell Dan he can sleep on the sofa tonight if he wants. If he hasn’t left by the time the sun goes down.

“Reckon we’ve earned a hot chocolate?” Phil asks once they’ve made it inside.

“Definitely. I can’t feel my bloody toes.” Dan sits himself at the kitchen table while Phil pulls milk from the fridge.

“How humiliated do I need to feel if I put mini marshmallows in it for you?”

“Zero percent humiliation required.”

“Excellent.” Phil resists turning around to look at Dan’s face. He resists calling to attention the fact that Dan’s wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing last time he was sat at this table. Instead he does what his mother would do in a situation like this and asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I feed you?”

“Yes please.” He sounds strangely vulnerable. Small. 

“I’m not the best cook,” Phil says. “It’s the one thing I didn’t really inherit from my mum.”

Phil feels something brush up against his elbow then and he jerks his arm away on pure instinct.

He turns his head and looks at Dan stood there right next to him. His heart sinks to see a look of bewilderment and maybe something else set into Dan’s face, his eyes wide in question.

“Sorry,” Phil mumbles.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Dan says quietly. “I wasn’t going to touch you, I just wanted to help.”

“It’s not— I didn’t think you were going to hurt me. I’m sorry.” 

“I make you uncomfortable,” Dan says. “I should leave. It was weird to just show up here again, you’re just too polite to tell me to fuck off.” He turns to leave and Phil reaches out to grab a fistful of his shirt. Even acting impulsively he makes sure he’s not touching anywhere near Dan’s skin.

“Please don’t leave. It’s not weird and I’m not uncomfortable.”

Dan looks down at Phil’s hand and Phil lets go, but Dan stays where he is. “You flinch every time I get near you.”

“I’m… a germaphobe?” It’s been a go to excuse his whole life, so he really should be able to say it with more conviction at this point. 

“A germaphobe,” Dan repeats incredulously.

“Of sorts.”

“You think I’m dirty.”

Fuck. He needs to come up with a better excuse. “No.”

Dan leans backwards against the counter, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them. “Isn’t that what germaphobia is?”

“Um…”

“I won’t touch you,” Dan says. 

“It’s not— you can, like, if you want—” He cuts himself off because he knows he’s making it even weirder than it needs to be. “It’s just my hands.”

“Your hands?”

Phil nods.

“You just grabbed my jumper with your hands.”

“It’s like… skin. I can’t touch skin with my hands.” He’s never said it explicitly like that. He watches Dan’s face intently, fully prepared for him to call it quits and walk out right then and there. Phil wouldn’t even blame him.

“Like when you fell,” Dan says quietly. “You grabbed my hand.”

Phil nods.

“And then you got sick.”

“Yeah.” Phil’s voice is barely more than a whisper. “It’s not personal.”

Dan just looks at him for a long time. Phil looks back, right into those dark eyes.

“That must be really lonely,” Dan says after an eternity of shared silence.

Phil just says, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Dan shrugs. “I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Phil’s not sure if that’s meant to be taken literally or not, but he doesn’t really care.

He makes them each a hot chocolate with too many marshmallows and Dan finds everything he needs in the fridge to make sandwiches and they eat at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t awkward but there is some kind of palpable tension in the air, the thickness of words being left unspoken and questions being left unasked.

They move out to the lounge afterwards. Phil turns on the telly and sits on the sofa and doesn’t miss that Dan sits as far to the opposite side as is physically possible. Phil hands him the remote. “You choose.”

“You don’t wanna game?”

“Do you?” Phil asks.

“I guess not. I’m kinda tired.”

“You look it.”

Dan snorts. “Thanks.”

“Oh, sorry.” Phil says. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“S’fine. I do look like a corpse, I know it.”

“But like, a fit one.”

Dan smirks. It’s not the smile Phil’s promised himself he’ll work to earn, but it’s a little closer than the last one. 

“You think I’m fit?”

Phil turns his head to look at the tv screen. “I dunno what you’re on about.”

“Ok, I get it,” Dan says in a teasing tone. Phil can tell his cheeks are pink but he refuses to look at Dan and give him the satisfaction of revealing that he’s embarrassed. 

He seems to have forgotten how to speak to people who aren’t family members or random retail workers. It’s an undeniable fact that Dan is fit, but he really didn’t have to say that. People don’t normally just blurt things out like that, do they? Probably not. 

Then again, nothing about this situation is normal. And Phil’s not normal. Maybe Dan’s not either. 

Phil leans over and snatches the remote out of Dan’s hand.

“Oi. Awful close to my hand there, mate.”

Phil shrugs. “Buffy is worth it.”

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, you know. The pretty blonde one who slays vampires.”

“And shags them,” Dan points out.

“Sometimes,” Phil is forced to agree as he opens Netflix and loads up the show.

“Who wouldn’t shag David Boreanaz if given the chance though, am I right?” Dan asks.

Phil looks sideways at Dan, who’s looking at the screen. He’s long and lean and stretched out on Phil’s couch like he belongs there.

It feels decidedly like making a choice when Phil says, “You’re not wrong.”

“Can we skip season one?”

Phil chuckles. “So you’re the instant gratification type then, eh?”

“Depends what we’re talking about.”

Phil is kind of dying to keep this conversation going but at that precise moment his phone starts ringing. He’s prepared to let it ring through, but Dan looks at him and says, “Don’t ignore it on my behalf.”

He digs it out of his pocket. His mum, of course. 

“Hi mum.”

He sees Dan smile out of the corner of his eye.

He lets her talk for a couple minutes before he starts getting antsy. “Mum, can I ring you back later?”

“What, why?”

“I’ve kind of got a mate round?”

“Really?” The disbelief in her voice would be insulting if it weren’t one hundred percent warranted. 

“Mhm, so…”

“Yes, yes, go, have fun.”

“K, talk to you la—”

“Is it a girl?” she asks excitedly.

He represses the urge to sigh. “No.”

“Oh, well. Just a mate then.”

“Ok bye mum,” he says coolly, any guilt he’d felt a moment ago completely evaporated.

“Bring him round next weekend.”

“What?”

“If you’ve got a proper mate I want to meet him.”

“Mum, no,” Phil groans. 

“Philip, yes.”

“I’m a grown man.”

Dan snickers.

“Not to me, you’re not,” she says matter-of-factly. “You’ll always be my baby.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“I’ll see you and your mate this weekend. Goodbye child.” She hangs up before he has a chance. 

“What was that?” Dan asks. “Did she set up a playdate for you or something?”

“Please don’t ask.” He mutes his phone and shoves it behind one of the sofa cushions. 

“I just did, mate.”

“It’s humiliating,” Phil mutters. “Let me retain at least a shred of my dignity. All I do when you’re around is make a fool of myself.”

“You’re fine,” Dan says. “But you don’t have to tell me. Let’s watch Buffy.”

Phil starts the first episode of the second season, relieved for the excuse not to have to talk anymore. A rush of nostalgia comes with hearing the theme song and he settles down into the cushions and hopes Dan’s in the mood for a binge.

Two episodes in Dan grabs the remote and presses pause.

“Gotta go?” Phil asks.

“Not unless you’re kicking me out.”

Phil shakes his head.

“I actually had a… request.”

“What’s up?”

Dan’s biting his lip. “It’s weird.”

“Weirder than anything I’ve said or done since you met me?” Phil asks.

“I guess not. I was wondering if you’d mind if… I took a shower.”

“Of course I don’t. Go ahead.”

“You’re not gonna ask me why?” Dan says.

“Um… do you want me to?”

Dan shakes his head.

Phil shrugs. “So I won’t.” 

“And I won’t ask any more about your ‘germaphobia,’” Dan air quotes.

Phil cracks a little smile. “Deal. Do you need a change of clothes?”

“Nah, got some in my car.”

“You do?”

Dan nods. “Don’t ask about that either, yeah?”

Phil mimes zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key.

“I’ll be quick,” Dan says, hopping up and heading for the door.

“No wanking,” Phil calls out.

Dan looks back at Phil with a grin. “Damnit, ruined all my plans.”

While Dan showers Phil does the washing up and tries not to jump to conclusions about why Dan’s got a blanket and pillow and change of clothes in his car and wants to shower in Phil’s tub. He did say he’d just moved here so maybe he’s still sorting things out.

Then Phil remembers the explosion of dread and emptiness in his head when his hand had closed around Dan’s and the urge to protect him becomes overwhelming. He wants to tell Dan he can shower here every day if he wants, sleep on the couch every night until that fear eases.

He’s sat on the sofa again when Dan comes back down, dressed all in black still with his curls damp and smelling like Phil’s body wash.

“Feel better?” Phil asks.

“Yeah. Thanks a lot.”

Phil chooses his response carefully. “Anytime.”

Dan sits and Phil can’t help but notice the space between them is slightly less than it had been before.

They watch Buffy until well after dark, pausing midway for more sandwiches and ribena.

“I’ll try to stock up better for next time,” Phil says apologetically.

Dan’s answer is nothing more than a shy smile cast downward.

A few hours later Dan is yawning and Phil doesn’t have a chance to offer him a place to sleep before he’s standing up and stretching himself out and groaning at the relief he must find there. 

“I should go.”

Phil’s so awkward. What he wants to say gets stuck in his throat and all that comes out is, “Ok.”

“See you later?” Dan asks as he pulls on his coat.

_Yes. Please. Come back. Don’t leave. Stay._

“I hope so.”


	3. Chapter 3

Enough days pass that Phil starts to think Dan’s forgotten him. He edits a few more videos, ventures into town for groceries, screens his mum’s calls and watches the waves crashing against the rocks. It never really stops, not even on the days where the air is still. The ocean is relentless and the rocks never get a break. They take their punishment stoically, only showing signs of wear over the course of decades.

Phil is starting to feel the wear. Even just a taste of relief from the loneliness has left him feeling its effects more than ever.

Then, like a dream, Dan is there on his doorstep with a smile.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Phil keeps the window open, the cold staving off the worst of the travel sickness. Dan plays music and they both watch out the window at the rolling green hills and the sharp rock off the cliffs and always the sea and the sky and the clouds that block the sun from burning Phil’s skin.

Dan is pale too. Phil supposes that makes sense; it’s winter after all. He gives up trying not to look after a while, the long curve of Dan’s neck and his hand on the steering wheel holding more interest for Phil than the scenery. The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks are pink with the cold but he never asks Phil to close the window. 

They stop for coffee and walk as they drink it, down the same street where Phil had tripped right into Dan’s arms. If he lets himself be ridiculous he’d say it’s like Dan was meant to be there, like he was just waiting to catch him. 

That’s probably not a thought he should be having about someone he doesn’t really know, but he’s out of practice with what friendship feels like. Or maybe he was never actually _in_ practice.

“This place is so pretty,” Dan says. The sun is starting to set and the lights are coming on, the storefronts decorated with fairy lights for Christmas. 

“Are you from somewhere not pretty?”

Dan shrugs. “London can be pretty, I guess. I don’t think I ever really saw those parts. All the parts I saw were dirty and full of people I never want to see again.”

“I went to London once,” Phil says, wrapping his fingers around his cup just to feel the warmth. “I didn’t like it. I was just a kid and someone shouted at me.”

“No one has shouted at me here,” Dan says. “It’s nice.”

Phil looks over. “Next time we should go to the beach. It’s cold but it’s pretty. We can collect shells.”

Dan smiles. “I like it when you say next time.”

“I like being able to say it,” Phil murmurs.

The view on the drive back is different but just as nice. Maybe even nicer, black dotted with twinkling lights in the distance. Dan plays music Phil’s never heard and Phil watches him sing along. 

Dan drives faster than maybe he should, but there’s no snow yet and he seems to know what he’s doing. Phil finds it exhilarating. The bus never drives like this. The frozen air that slips through the sliver of space in the open window is enough to keep him from feeling ill and he finds himself wishing he lived even further away. 

Phil’s not tempted to make conversation until Dan pulls into his drive and turns off the music. He doesn’t want the night to be over but he doesn’t know what to say besides, “Thanks. That was fun.”

“You’d tell me if you didn’t actually want to hang out, yeah?” Dan asks.

“Uh… I mean, I guess? It doesn’t really apply here so I don’t actually know.”

The engine is still running. “I feel like maybe you’re just like, way too polite to say anything.”

“D’you wanna come inside?” Phil blurts.

Dan looks startled. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go,” Phil says, opening his door. “My balls are… marbles.”

Dan grins. He’s got a dimple, the deepest one Phil’s ever seen. “My dick has retracted back inside my body.”

“My nipples could cut glass,” Phil says. He leans over and grabs Dan’s keys out of the ignition. “C’mon, I’m running out of clever things to say.”

“You don’t have to try to come up with clever things to say.” Dan reaches over towards Phil’s hand, presumably to take his keys back.

Then he stops himself. He stops himself before Phil can jerk back defensively. He looks at Phil’s face apologetically and then flips his hand around and holds his palm up. Phil drops the keys into them.

“Sorry,” Dan murmurs. “Almost forgot.”

“But you didn’t,” Phil says quietly. The fact that in the end he didn’t means a lot.

“Can I still come in?”

“Course. Let’s go.”

Dan pockets his keys and opens his door and follows Phil up the drive and inside the house.

“D’you want a drink?” Phil asks once he’s hung up their coats. He feels tense in a nervous way, and he’d really like to get past that.

“Like, a drink drink?”

Phil smirks. “Yeah, you know. The kind you drink to get drunk.”

“You wanna get drunk with me?” Dan cocks an eyebrow.

“I mean… we can start with one drink and see where that goes.”

“Yeah, alright then. Make me a drink.”

Phil does to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of rosé that’s been in there for at least a year. It’s all he’s got but it’s better than nothing. He can feel Dan’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

“Wine?” Dan muses, coming up beside him and picking up the bottle. “How classy.”

“Not really,” Phil says. “I just remembered I don’t have wine glasses.”

Dan shrugs. “I know you have mugs. Mugs work.” He reaches for the cupboard where the mugs are Phil’s heart does a strange little squeeze. 

Dan knows where he keeps his mugs.

He grabs two down and Phil fills them halfway with wine then gestures to the lounge. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

They’re halfway through an episode of Buffy and Phil’s already near to the bottom of his mug when Dan turns to him without prompting and says, “So Phil.”

Phil angles himself slightly more toward Dan and tries to match the humour in his tone. “So Dan.”

“What’s your last name?”

Phil narrows his eyes. “Are you going to murder me and steal my identity? Is that what all this is about?”

“All this?”

“Yeah.” He gestures in the space between the two of them. “This.”

“Maybe I am,” Dan says casually, tucking his foot up under his thigh. “Clearly you’re living large up here.”

“If you’re gonna kill me, wait til I’m asleep, yeah?”

“Deal.”

“It’s Lester. What’s yours?”

Dan’s halfway through a sip of his wine and he chuckles into his mug. “Mate. You definitely don’t wanna steal this identity. I ain’t got much going for me right now.”

“Sure you do. You’ve got wine and Buffy and my company. What more do you need?”

“It’s Howell,” Dan says. “But your logic makes no sense. You literally always have your own company. You don’t need to murder me to spend time with yourself.”

“Maybe I wanna flay you and wear your skin as a coat,” Phil blurts. 

“Jesus. You’re twisted.”

“Sorry,” Phil mutters, knocking back the rest of his drink in one shot.

“No, don’t be. I love it.” Dan pick up Phil’s mug. “More?”

Phil nods and Dan refills for them both. “So how many skin coats you got locked away in here, then?”

“Sadly none. Still in the theoretical stages I’m afraid.”

Dan nods. “Maybe we should team up instead. I wouldn’t mind a skin coat. Plus my skin is shit, you don’t want me.”

Phil shrugs. “You look good to me.”

Dan grins at him but graciously doesn’t call any more attention to what Phil realizes afterwards probably sounded like very clumsy flirting.

“So. Phil Lester.” He rests the side of his face against his fist, his elbow propped up against the back of the sofa. He’s fully turned away from the telly now, all his attention focused on Phil.

“So Dan Howell.”

“Why does a bloke like you live all alone up on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere?”

“A bloke like me?”

“Mhm,” Dan hums as he steadily sips more of his rosé.

“What, awkward? Clumsy?”

“Funny. Kind. Attractive.”

Phil doesn’t have enough practice with moments like this. He feels all squirmy under his skin. What is he supposed to say to that?

“You think I’m funny?” is the first thing that comes out.

Dan smiles. “No, really. Why this house? Why this island?”

Phil looks away. Is he going to be honest right now? Normally he wouldn’t but the wine is making him feel bold. Or maybe just stupid. “It’s just easier.”

“Easier than what?” Dan asks.

Phil looks at him. “Easier than people looking at me like I’m a freak.”

Dan lifts up his mug. “Fucking cheers to that, mate.”

Phil clinks his mug against Dan’s and takes a long swig before continuing to follow his bold and/or stupid impulses. “Is that why you’re living out of your car?”

Dan looks startled. “What?”

“Sorry.”

“You know?”

Phil shrugs. “Not that difficult to work out.”

“Fuck,” Dan mutters. “You’re right. It’s easier not to let people see you.” He starts to stand.

“Are you leaving?” The panic in Phil’s voice is naked. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because… you’re drunk. You can’t drive.”

“I’m not drunk,” Dan argues. “I’ve had one drink.”

“One and a half drinks on an empty stomach.”

“If you want me to stay you can just say s—”

“I want you to stay.”

Dan’s mouth snaps shut but he doesn’t sit back down.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Phil says quietly. “You may not be drunk but I am.”

“You are?”

Phil nods. Dan sits.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just thought we were like… bonding.”

Dan laughs bitterly.

“Also I wanted to tell you you’re welcome to stay here.”

“Tonight?”

“Sure,” Phil says. “And like, every night.”

“You really do want to make me into a skin coat, don’t you?”

Phil knows he should laugh and go along with the joke and then maybe they can pretend none of this part of the night ever happened. He knows that’s what anyone else would do but he can’t bring himself to do it. “I just don’t want you sleeping out in the cold.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

It’s like a punch in the gut, but it’s not altogether surprising. It was really only a matter of time before Phil cocked this whole thing up.

“It’s not pity. It’s concern.”

Dan stands up again, and this time Phil can tell he’s not going to be swayed from leaving. He watches Dan walk over to the door and grab his coat. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it.” He opens the door without getting dressed and says, “I can take care of myself,” before slamming the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

You’re alone.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yes mum.”

“I told you to bring your mate.”

He ducks under her arm to get inside. “And I told you that wasn’t going to happen.”

She sighs and shuts the door. “I miss the days when you would actually listen to me.”

“I was a child, mum. I didn’t have a choice then.” He slips his coat off and hangs it on one of the hooks as he feels a hand press gently in the space between his shoulder blades.

“What’s going on, love?”

Something twinges in his chest, some kind of longing to confess everything and cry on her shoulder. He wants to believe that she would understand, that she could tell him everything is going to be ok. 

“Nothing,” he says. “I’m just tired.”

She gives his back a maternal rub and says, “Go on upstairs and say hello to dad. I’ll make you a coffee.”

He finds his dad in his office, pencil in hand, head bent over whatever it is he’s working on. Phil guesses it’s a sketch and not actual work, and when he gets closer he sees that he’s right. 

“Hi dad.”

His dad looks up, startled like he hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone anymore. “Phil.” He smiles. His voice is warm and deep. “Sit with me.”

Phil grabs a chair from the corner of the room and pulls it over to sit next to his dad and watch his pencil etch lines into the paper. It’s calming. He hasn’t an ounce of artistic ability himself but he’s always loved watching his dad work, ever since he was a little boy.

“So,” his dad murmurs, “How goes it?”

Phil just shrugs. He’s feeling unable even to pretend today.

“That good, eh?”

Phil says nothing and his dad doesn’t push. He’s good like that.

His mum comes up a few minutes later with a mug for each of them. They both murmur their thank yous and ignore her as she stands there watching them. “You lot are two of a kind aren’t you?” she muses.

His dad laughs. Phil takes a sip of his coffee. It’s sweet, even for him, but strong enough that it’s drinkable.

“Nigel, if Phil’s going to stay up here with you for a while please try to convince him that I’m a high strung empty nester who needs every reassurance that he wouldn’t be better off moving back home and meeting his friends would go a long way toward accomplishing that.”

Phil rolls his eyes. Nigel says, “Yes dear.”

She ruffles Phil’s hair and says, “It’s nice to see you, child.” She leans down and kisses his temple.

“You too mum.”

It’s quiet again after she leaves. He sips his coffee and alternates between watching his father sketch and staring out the window.

“So what’s that about, then?” his dad asks.

“You know mum.”

“Aye. I know she worries about you.”

“I’m fine,” Phil mutters. 

“You can lie to yourself but not to your old man, bud. Spit it out.”

Phil sighs. His defenses are down, the sting of watching Dan walk out still fresh even after three days. “I dunno. I’m kind of tired of… everything.”

His dad looks up at that with his eyebrows raised. “Don’t say that your mum.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Can you elaborate for me a little bit, mate?”

Phil bites at his bottom lip and looks out the window, his chin in danger of quivering. “Just tired of being me,” he says weakly.

“Is old Kathryn right? Do you need to move back in with us for a while? Let us take care of you?”

“No,” Phil says like a knee jerk, then, “I dunno. I’m just… bad.”

“You are not.”

“I’m bad with people,” Phil clarifies. “It’s easier to be alone.”

“Do things feel easy for you right now?” his dad asks.

Phil doesn’t know what to say. 

His dad drops his pencil and looks at Phil, even turns his chair a little. He reaches out his hand for Phil to take.

Phil just looks at it. “Dad…”

“Ah yes,” Nigel says. “The germaphobia.” He doesn’t move his hand, leaving his palm upturned.

“Right.”

“It’s clever, that is.”

Phil frowns. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s a good explanation,” his dad says.

“It’s not an explanation, it’s—”

“It’s alright, Phil. It’s fine. I get it. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Phil frowns, his heart hammering in his throat. “What?”

“It got easier for me,” Nigel says, hand still reached out. “As I got older. I thought you’d figure it out. That’s why I never really tried to talk to you about it.”

“Figure what out?” Phil whispers. 

“It’s like… a muscle. You have to train it if you want it to be strong. And the training hurts. The training is difficult. And you have to keep training your whole life.”

“Dad…” Phil says weakly. He doesn’t understand. This can’t actually be happening.

“It gets easier, Phil,” Nigel says softly. “But you can’t give up. You can’t lock yourself away. You deserve so much more than that.”

“It hurts too much,” Phil says. “I don’t know how to…” he trails off. 

“You have to rip the plaster off,” he dad says. “Take my hand.”

“I can’t.”

“It won’t hurt this time, Phil. I promise.” He stretches his arm out. “Trust me. Just this once.”

Phil’s fingers are trembling as he lifts his hand and brings it towards his dad’s. The moment their palms touch and Nigel wraps his fingers around to grip firmly, Phil’s head is filled with something he wasn’t prepared for.

Warmth. Comfort. Love. A feeling so overwhelming and soul deep he realizes it’s the kind of love he’s heard his mother describe time and time again, the love a parent feels for their child. Tears prick Phil’s eyes and he squeezes his dad’s hand and focuses on the way it feels. The palm is soft but on the back the skin is a little rougher. He stares down in awe and wonders how he’ll ever bring himself to let go.

“Dad,” Phil whispers and Nigel pulls him by the hand into his chest and crushes him into a one armed bear hug. 

Phil can’t help the tears that fall then. He’s confident this is one time his dad won’t take the piss for it.

He reigns it in after a few minutes and pulls away. Their hands come apart and that lovely honey warmth dulls, but only a little. He still feels it in his head and his chest, underscored by a sensation of worry that he hadn’t felt before. His dad is worried about him.

“Oh Phil,” his dad says softly, squeezing his shoulder. “What are we going to do with you?”

Phil laughs a little and wipes his nose against the sleeve of his jumper. “I dunno.”

“Let’s finish up our coffees and go join your mother. She’s been missing you.”

He spends the rest of the day being a model son. He accompanies his mum while she runs a million errands and they meet up with Nigel later for sushi. They stay up late drinking tea and playing board games and the next morning they all have a lie in. When they’re all up and out of bed Phil and Nigel help Kath make a proper huge breakfast that they slowly pick at for hours as they trade sections of the Sunday paper and drink refill after refill of strong instant coffee. 

Phil hugs his mum extra tight in the doorway before he leaves. “Love you child. Come back soon. Bring your mate.”

“Love you too mum. Don’t hold your breath.”

She swats him on the arm and he laughs as he follows his dad out to the car. 

They don’t talk much on the ride home. Nigel turns on the radio and they listen to the oldies station as they takes the curves and dips of the hilly roads. As always Phil’s got the window open, and he smiles when his dad starts singing along. He has the urge to reach out and grab his dad’s hand off the steering wheel but shudders when he imagines how awkward it would be if he actually did it.

Instead he closes his eyes and focuses on the glow he can still in the back of his mind if he concentrates hard enough. 

The sun is just starting to set as they pull into the drive. Phil’s heart stops when he sees there’s already a car there, and a person sitting on the front.

“Who’s that?” Nigel asks.

Phil just shakes his head. A hand comes to rest gently on his shoulder and squeeze.

“Remember… training.”

“Yeah,” Phil croaks. “Right.”

“And start slow.”

Phil turns his head. “You said to rip off the plaster.”

“I meant with me. From now on you take your time. You wouldn’t run a marathon without training first.”

Phil nods. “Ok,” he says weakly.

“You know you can ring me if you want to talk,” Nigel says. “Or ask questions.”

“Thanks dad.” Phil twists and reaches behind him to grab his backpack. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Good luck.”

Phil steps out and closes the door and stares at Dan’s face as he listens to his dad drive away.

Once he’s sure Nigel is long gone, he takes a few steps toward the house.

“Hey,” Dan says, standing up, hands wrung together nervously.

“Hi.”

“How are you?” His voice is too chipper; it feels completely out of place.

“How long have you been sat there?” Phil asks, hitching his backpack up higher on his shoulder.

“Um. A while.”

Phil just nods and stays rooted to the spot.

“Was that your dad?” Dan asks.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Phil looks away so he can get out what he has to say next. “What do you want, Dan?”

“To apologize?”

“Are you asking my permission, or…?”

“No, no. Fuck.” He scrubs a hand down over his face and huffs a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry. I was such an asshole.”

“Yeah.”

“I felt humiliated and really stupid. I was hoping you’d never have to know what a failure I am.”

Phil shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His fingers are starting to get cold. “You know that’s not what I think of you. I let you see my mess. I was just trying to help. I thought… I thought we were mates. Isn’t that what mates do?”

“We are. We are mates. Mates also forgive each other.”

“Is that right?” Phil asks.

Dan nods. “So now’s the part where you forgive me.”

Phil walks forward until he’s stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at Dan. “You have to stay here tonight.”

Dan nods.

“Fine. I forgive you I guess.”

Dan beams. “I don’t know how yet but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Can we go inside now? I have no tits or balls or anything left. I stopped being able to feel my toes hours ago.”

“Why didn’t you wait in your car? I know you’ve got a blanket in there.” Phil says. “Or you could’ve just come back some other time.”

“I felt like— you’re gonna think I’m mad, like genuinely insane.”

“I already do.”

Dan bites his lip. “I felt like I deserved to sit in the cold. It’s what I deserve for being a dick to the only person who’s been kind to me in recent memory.”

Phil walks up the step then and gives Dan a gentle shove. “C’mon idiot, we’re going inside to get warm.”

“Phil.” Dan grabs Phil’s arm before he can pull it away.

Their faces are so close. Phil can see a few little freckles on Dan’s nose. Dan is staring so intently Phil forgets to breathe and then Dan is squeezing him.

“Thank you,” Dan whispers. “Thank you.”

Phil hugs back a little with one arm for a moment before saying, “Come on. Let’s go in.” He pretends not hear Dan sniffle.

Dan starts shaking a little once they’re inside where it’s warm. “Take off your shoes and go sit on the sofa,” Phil says authoritatively. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Umm… this morning.”

Phil goes to the fridge and roots around for about three seconds before shutting it again and declaring, “We’re ordering food.”

“I can pay,” Dan says. He’s curled up, hugging his knees to his chest in the corner of the sofa. “I have money.”

“Dan, please shut up. Can you just…” He turns to face in Dan’s direction. “Please will you just let me take care of you?”

“Ok. Sorry.”

“No more apologizing either. I’m gonna run you a bath, ok? I’m genuinely worried you might be hypothermic.” Phil walks over to look at Dan properly. “Your lips are blue.”

“I don’t feel very well,” Dan says quietly.

Phil nods. “Come upstairs in five minutes. You need to warm up. Do you have a change of clothes in your car?”

“I do but they’re all dirty.”

“We’ll wash them tomorrow,” Phil says. “For tonight you can borrow some of mine.” 

“Thank you.”

Phil just nods and says, “Five minutes,” before he heads up the stairs. Something about seeing Dan so broken and vulnerable has snapped him into action. It must be a secret Kath gene that lurks until it’s really needed. 

He runs Dan a hot bath and sets out fresh towels, and a hoodie and sweats for him to change into. Dan is coming up the stairs as Dan is heading down.

“What do you want to eat?” Phil asks.

“Please, Phil. I’d be happy with dry bread and water, ok, I don’t deserve any of this let alone to dictate what we eat. Please choose something you like. The guilt is going to eat me alive.”

“No guilt,” Phil says gently. “You took care of me when I needed it. Now it’s my turn.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dan argues. “All I did was give you a ride.”

Phil shakes his head. “You don’t get it. Every time you show up at my door you’re saving me a little more.”

Dan takes a step up so they’re stood on the same stair. They really are almost exactly the same height, and Dan leans forward into Phil’s space. Phil’s breath hitches once and his heart is going wild in his chest but he doesn’t move away. 

“Every time I show up at your door and you don’t turn me away you’re saving _me_.”

Phil’s eyes flit down to look at Dan’s mouth, at his chapped lips parted slightly and breathing warm breath against Phil’s face. 

Dan shivers and Phil looks away, steps to the side and down a stair. “Get in the bath Dan. I won’t have you freezing to death. I’m gonna order Indian.”

Dan clears his throat. “Perfect.”

“Don’t come down until you’re properly defrosted, mate. Seriously.”

The food has already arrived by the time Dan comes back down the stairs. It gives Phil a little thrill to see Dan wearing his old university hoodie.

“You went to York?” Dan asks, settling himself next to Phil where he’s waiting on the sofa, food spread out on the coffee table in front of them.

Phil nods. “English language and linguistics and then special effects and film editing. You?”

“Manchester. Law. Dropped out after a year. One in a long list of my miserable failures.” He pulls his legs up and crosses them underneath himself. 

“Setbacks aren’t failures,” Phil says, handing Dan a plate.

Dan accepts it and gives him a weak smile. “You’re nice. You’re full of shit, but you’re nice.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dan just shrugs and starts piling rice on his plate.

“Do you feel better?” Phil asks.

“I feel warmer,” Dan clarifies. “Thank you. Really.”

Phil scoops butter chicken out of the container and thinks about what he wants to say next. He doesn’t know what he’s allowed to ask, what he’s allowed to say. The threat of pushing too far and offending Dan again looms over his head and leaves him feeling awkward, shackled to superficial pleasantries that he doesn’t care about.

He wants to know Dan. He’s sick of the mystique.

“Should I put on Buffy?” he asks.

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Phil looks at him. “You know I would have forgiven you right away, right? Like, you didn’t have to punish yourself like that. You don’t have to do that.”

Dan shrugs. “Sometimes my brain is fucked up.”

“Well maybe next time you could try to remind it that I’m a merciful ruler.” He grins.

Dan cracks just a hint of a smile. “Already anticipating my next fuck up, eh?”

Phil’s face falls. “That’s not—”

“Phil. I’m joking. Even in this context I’m glad you think there’ll be a next time.”

Phil huffs.

“Put Buffy on,” Dan says softly. “Let’s eat.”

They eat in silence and watch from where they’d left off last time. The food is good and Phil is glad to have Dan beside him, glad that his lips are pink where they were blue and he seems not to be shivering anymore, but it still doesn’t feel quite right. There are too many half truths and unanswered questions hanging in the air between them now. 

But Phil waits. He waits until they’ve both finished eating. He waits until the leftovers have been put away and they’ve started in on drinking the wine that’s left in the bottle they opened last time. 

It’s a risk, he knows. It’s maybe a little dangerous to come at Dan with questions when they’re still feeling strangely raw and their defenses are dulled by the alcohol, but he doesn’t think he can ignore anymore that he feels as much for Dan as he does while he’s still a virtual stranger.

“Dan.”

“Hmm?” He sounds sleepy. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Dan is quiet a moment before he turns his whole body in Phil’s direction. “You wanna know what my deal is.”

“Uh, I mean… Yeah. I guess I do.”

Dan chugs down the rest of his drink and puts the mug on the table. “I wanna know yours too.”

“You know mine.” His heart rate spikes instantly.

Dan shakes his head. “Not really.”

“More than I know of yours.”

Dan sighs. “I honestly… I don’t _want_ you to know. I wanted this place to be like… a fresh start. I wanted this to be the time I got my shit together. I didn’t think I’d… I didn’t expect to meet someone like you on the very first day. I haven’t… I haven’t had time. I’m still a mess. This was never the plan.”

“Someone like me?”

“Yeah.” Dan’s voice is steady. He doesn’t explain further than that and it makes Phil feel warm under his skin.

He tries to ignore it. “You’re running from something.”

“So are you,” Dan says. “In your own way.”

Phil can’t argue with that, really. “I was. Until I met you.”

The way Dan looks at him makes him feel like he could burst into flames on the spot. He’s heard about that, the urban legends about spontaneous combustion. Maybe today he’ll prove them to be fact.

“Part of me still wants to run,” Phil says, voice deep and quiet. 

“Me too.”

“I hope you don’t. I’m glad you didn’t. I’m— I’m glad you came back.”

Dan looks away. “You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

“I want you to get to know the me I want to be,” Dan all but whispers. “Not the me I was.”

“Can’t I get to know both?” Phil asks. 

“You won’t want me— want to be my mate. If you know who I was. Who I am.”

“I know who you are,” Phil says. “You’re the guy who refused to leave me alone when you knew I needed help. You’re… you’re sad.”

Dan looks at him, a small frown creasing his forehead.

“You’re scared,” Phil continues, remembering how he felt that day his hand had closed around Dan’s. “You’re in so much pain and I don’t know why but I know what kind of person you are and I know you shouldn’t be blaming yourself for the pain that’s in your head.”

They stare at each other wordlessly. When Dan blinks, a single tear rolls down his cheek. Phil burns with the desire to reach out and brush it away. He remembers his father’s words and reckons maybe there’s hope. Maybe being able to wipe Dan’s tears away is a future that could belong to him.

“You’re scared too,” Dan whispers. “Even though you’re pretending you’re not.”

Phil nods. 

“You’re scared of letting me see you just as much as I’m scared of letting you see me.”

“I’m scared there’s nothing here for you to see.”

Dan shuffles a little bit closer. “You’re scared you’re not enough and I’m scared I’m way too much.”

Phil nods. “But I’m here. Are you here?”

Dan doesn’t say anything. Phil feels like he could be sick.

“Do you _want_ to be here?” he asks.

Dan’s answer to that question is immediate. “Yes.”

“Ok. Ok, good.” Phil takes a deep breath and tries to bring himself down, quiet the melodrama in his head. “Can I ask you one question?”

Dan nods.

“Will you stay here?”

“Tonight?” Dan asks.

“Tonight,” Phil says, “and all the nights after it until you have somewhere safe and warm to stay. Or until you decide you’d rather just stay here.”

Dan actually laughs. “You’re inviting me to move in with you.”

“I just don’t want you to spend one more night sleeping in your bloody car, Dan. You can’t.”

Dan’s quiet for a while but this time Phil lets him have it. He’ll wait.

“Ok,” Dan says finally. “I’ll stay.”

“Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning.”

Dan nods. “Now can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it just your hands?” Dan asks.

Phil’s stomach twists. “What?”

“Like… Can I— theoretically, can I touch you? As long as it’s not your hands?”

“Yes,” Phil croaks. If he’s not on fire now, he’s absolutely sure he will be as he watches Dan scoot close enough that their knees are touching. 

Dan reaches up and brushes Phil’s hair off his forehead. His fingers are warm as they graze Phil’s skin, but Phil still shivers.

“What happens if you touch me?” Dan whispers. “You’re not actually afraid of my germs, are you.” It’s not phrased as a question.

“No,” Phil whispers back. He reaches his hand out and lets it hover in the air awkwardly before bringing it down on Dan’s knee. Even touching Dan in an innocuous place like that overtop of his clothing feels desperately intimate.

“But it could make you ill,” Dan says.

Phil nods.

“It made you ill last time.”

Phil nods again.

“And you still want me to stay,” Dan whispers. “You still… want me to touch you?”

“Yes.” Phil’s voice is barely more than the air he’s breathing out. He can feel his pulse in his fingertips. 

Dan reaches up and strokes over Phil’s eyebrow softly, drags the tip of his finger across his cheek and down to his mouth. Phil’s lips part as Dan traces along the bottom one. Phil breathes against Dan’s finger and wonders how he can still be alive for this moment when it feels like his heart stopped ages ago.

Dan leans forward until his forehead presses gently against Phil’s and Phil is so relieved to discover that he isn’t the only one whose breath is coming out ragged.

It’s Phil who tilts his head to brush his nose up alongside Dan’s. He closes his eyes and tries to memorize every one of the hundred sensations he’s overcome with.

His hand is still on Dan’s knee.

“You want me to kiss you,” Dan whispers.

“Yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

Phil wakes up to sun on his face. He can’t remember the last time he’d felt that. It streams in through his window and touches his skin with its warmth. 

It’s nice, but it’s not as nice as the memory that fills his head as consciousness settles in.

Chapped lips on his. A broad palm cradling his jaw. Breath on his cheek, butterflies in his stomach and his heart pounding against his ribs.

Happiness. Excitement. Fear. All of it all at once as Dan pressed his lips to Phil’s, once, slowly, and then twice more, smacking as they pulled apart and a little wetter with each new kiss. A little longer with each new kiss.

The fear had Phil gripping Dan’s knee harder instead of letting go. The happiness, the excitement had him physically aching to touch Dan for real, to learn the texture of his skin, to know if he felt as warm as he looked beneath the blush on his cheeks.

Phil rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He’s never felt anything like this. He thinks it’s what people call giddy. His heart beats all fast and funny when he remembers that Dan is still downstairs, asleep on the sofa. He’d promised he wouldn’t leave.

The clock on his bedside table tells him it’s early enough that Dan is probably still asleep. He should shower. He should find something to wear that makes him look nice.

What makes him look nice? Most of his clothes were purchased with the thought of how comfortable they would be for his three-day long editing binges, not how they would look to the mysterious man he kissed three times on his sofa last night. 

Would it be too eager to make Dan breakfast? What if he made something Dan doesn’t like? Does Dan like eggs? Does Phil even have eggs?

Now his heart is beating with anxiety more than any other emotion imagining all the ways he could ruin everything by being incredibly awkward. He needs to stop the thought spiral before it devolves into a full on panic attack.

Shower. He should shower.

The shower doesn’t help as much as he’d hoped. He’s still panicking slightly, but at least he’s clean. He decides to wear what he would any other day that carried the possibility of seeing another human being: black jeans and a plaid button up.

He sits on his bed fully dressed and stares at his reflection in the mirror that’s leaned up against the wall on the other side of the room. His hair is still damp and there’s no style to it whatsoever.

His skin is pale, his hair is boring. His clothes are probably boring. Is he boring?

He probably is. He’s spent so long shut up by himself not having to worry about how he came across to other people and now he’s just… _this _, this bland boring guy with nothing to offer but the ability to edit mediocre YouTube videos and a warm couch to sleep on.__

__Maybe that’s what this was all about. Maybe that’s why Dan kissed him._ _

__He wants to reject the thought but he’s too far down into that scary place now where his heart beats too fast and it feels like everything in the world is out to get him._ _

__There’s a soft knock on the door and he nearly jumps out of his skin. “Yeah?” he asks, voice shaking like a leaf._ _

__“Phil?”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Are you decent?” Dan asks._ _

__Phil’s heart has crawled so far up his throat he half thinks if he bit down he could chew on it. He forgets what Dan’s asked the moment the sound of his voice stops. “What?”_ _

__Dan opens the door then and Phil shoots up to stand._ _

__“I asked if you were decent.” Dan is smiling. He’s smiling._ _

__He’s got such a nice smile._ _

__Phil tries to remember how to breathe. “You didn’t give me time to answer the question,” he squeaks._ _

__Dan grins wider. Phil sees a very adorable dimple popped into one of his cheeks._ _

__“Figured I’d take my chances.”_ _

__He’s flirting. Even Phil can tell that’s what’s happening here; Dan is flirting with him._ _

__He allows himself a moment or two just to take in that smile, to soak in the sincerity of it and remind himself that whatever’s happening between them is real. It’s strange and new and confusing, but it’s real. Dan hasn’t kissed him to secure a spot on his sofa. Dan kissed him because he likes him._ _

__There’s no way a smile like that is fake._ _

__“How’d you sleep?” Phil asks._ _

__“Um… I didn’t sleep much, actually,” Dan admits._ _

__Phil frowns. “Was the sofa uncomfortable? You can have the bed tonight if—”_ _

__“The sofa was fine. Good sofa. Much soft, very comfort.”_ _

__Phil snickers. He feels giddy again, the very nervous kind._ _

__“I didn’t sleep because… well, I had a lot on my mind, didn’t I?”_ _

__“Oh.” Phil takes a deep breath to summon the courage to say what he says next. “Good things I hope.”_ _

__“Very good.” He’s still stood in the doorway, leaned up against the side of it and dressed in Phil’s clothes. It’s a sight Phil could really get used to._ _

__“I’m hungry,” he blurts._ _

__“Me too,” Dan agrees. “C’mon, I’m taking you out.”_ _

__“Out?” Phil asks thickly._ _

__Dan nods. “To wherever your favourite place to eat breakfast is.”_ _

__The sun has brought with it enough warmth to chase away the worst of the chill in the air. It’s downright pleasant when Phil rolls down his window. The wind blows through his unstyled hair and he thinks of how stupid he was to be so worried about it in the first place._ _

__It’s warm enough that Dan rolls down his window too. He turns up the volume on his music so they can hear it over the roar of the wind. It’s such a different feeling than the last ride Phil had taken in this car, but one that’s just as nice._ _

__He keeps his eyes on the trees and rocks and hills and sea out the window. Every time he looks at Dan his heart jumps and he’s not sure he can handle it yet. He’ll need to learn how to get that under control._ _

__He directs Dan to the little out of the way restaurant he’s been going to with his family for years. It’s right on the outskirts of town and Phil can tell Dan is surprised when he sees it._ _

__“It doesn’t look like much but the food is really good and it’s quiet.”_ _

__“Ah,” Dan says, understanding flashing across his face._ _

__“They have the best pancakes I’ve ever had,” Phil says, pulling the door open and holding it for Dan. “Don’t tell my mum I said that.”_ _

__“Your secret is safe with me.”_ _

__Once they’re sat in a booth by the window, the nerves start to overwhelm him again. There’s no wind or loud music now to drown out the awkwardness of the morning after, the peculiar feeling of not knowing what’s supposed to happen next._ _

__Phil pretends to study the menu intently. He knows what he’s going to get, and even if he didn’t he’s had the menu memorized for years. He sneaks a glance at Dan and feels his face blush deeply to see that Dan’s already looking at him._ _

__Dan giggles and looks down. Phil closes his menu and puts it down. “D’you know what you want?”_ _

__“If you mean do I know what I’m gonna order, then no,” Dan says. Why does he sound so calm?_ _

__“What if I don’t?” Phil asks quietly. “What if I mean something else?”_ _

__Dan looks up again. “Do you?”_ _

__Phil opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by the sudden appearance of their waitress asking if they’re ready to order. Phil looks to Dan, who nods._ _

__“Coffee,” Phil says quickly. “Definitely need coffee.”_ _

__“I’ll have tea,” Dan says. “And whatever food he’s having.”_ _

__“Pancakes, please,” he says, smiling at her sheepishly. It feels silly for some reason, like he should be an ordering on omelette or something like that. Something more grown up._ _

__Phil is lamenting the loss of the menus as soon as the waitress walks away. He’s got absolutely no idea what to do with his hands. His leg is jiggling under the table._ _

__“Hey Phil, can I ask you something?”_ _

__“Sure.”_ _

__“Are you nervous?”_ _

__Phil’s legs stills and to his relief Dan laughs a little. Phil laughs too, at his own ridiculousness when he says, “Yeah. Are you?”_ _

__“Nah.”_ _

__“Oh, ok.” He doesn’t even have time to wonder what that means before Dan is speaking again._ _

__“You don’t need to be either. I promise.”_ _

__Phil smiles. “You don’t know me very well.” He says it gently, but it’s true. They really don’t actually much about each other at all._ _

__“Yet,” Dan says._ _

__“Yeah?” He’s afraid to be hopeful. Suddenly he feels afraid of everything. Just a hint of the beautiful thing this could be has left him shaken about the potential of losing it._ _

__The waitress brings their drinks. Dan stares into Phil’s eyes as his tea is placed in front of him and Phil stares back. They don’t speak until she’s promised it won’t take too long for the food and walked away._ _

__Phil reaches for the little pot of milk to fix up his coffee. It’s a nice distraction._ _

__“Phil.”_ _

__He looks up._ _

__“I dunno if you like, don’t wanna talk about it or something but… I had fun last night.”_ _

__“You did?”_ _

__Dan kicks Phil’s foot very lightly under the table. “Yeah. Did you?”_ _

__Phil looks down into his mug. The too-fast fluttering is back and he feels like he might burst out of his skin. He nods._ _

__“Tell me that’s why you’re nervous and not because you’re wishing you hadn’t let me kiss you,” Dan say quietly._ _

__Phil snaps his head up. “You’re kidding, right?”_ _

__“I’m not.”_ _

__“I’m not wishing that,” Phil says. “Not even a little bit.”_ _

__Dan smiles shyly and looks down. “So you might let me do it again some time?”_ _

__If he had a joke or something even remotely clever to say he’d say it now, but all that comes to mind is sincerity, so he supposes that’ll have to do._ _

__“I’d like that.”_ _

__“Well ok then,” Dan says, picking up his tea and blowing steam over the rim of the mug. “I’m glad.”_ _

__“Me too.”_ _

__Dan kicks Phil’s foot again. “You’re a nerd, aren’t you?”_ _

__Phil grins, ripping open a packet of sugar and tipping it into his coffee. “Yeah, reckon so. That a problem?”_ _

__Dan shakes his head. “I like it. It’s cute.”_ _

__“I’ll cute your mum,” Phil retorts._ _

__Dan laughs. “Yep, definitely a nerd.”_ _

__“How does it feel knowing you’re on a date with a nerd?”_ _

__“You tell me,” Dan says._ _

__“You’re not a nerd,” Phil says. “You’re like, the exact opposite.”_ _

__Dan cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”_ _

__“You’re like, cool. Mysterious. Tall, dark and handsome and all that.”_ _

__Dan snorts. “I’m almost as pale as you. And my nose looks like a potato.” He takes a sip of his tea. “I _am_ tall, though. I’ll give you that.”_ _

__“Your nose looks nothing like a potato.”_ _

__“Maybe you just don’t remember what a potato looks like.”_ _

__“Just admit that you’re too cool for a nerd like me,” Phil says._ _

__Suddenly, Dan leans over the booth and grabs Phil’s chin. He plants a kiss right on Phil’s mouth and sits back down to smirk a little at Phil’s stunned expression._ _

__“Nope.”_ _

__Phil’s still reeling when the waitress appears with two plates of pancakes._ _

__“Ooh, the American kind,” Dan coos._ _

__“Yeah,” Phil croaks. He looks at the kind lady with the pancakes and wonders if she’d seen. He kind of hopes she had. “Thank you.”_ _

__She smiles. “Enjoy, loves.”_ _

__“Good timing,” Dan says when she’s gone. He’s still smirking._ _

__“Shut up and eat your pancakes,” Phil mumbles._ _

__Dan moans when he takes a bite, full on moans in a way that makes Phil feel hot under his skin. Dan’s eyes are closed and his head is tipped back a little. Phil finds himself staring at the way his long neck arches and suddenly he’s hungry in a way that wouldn’t be satisfied by all the pancakes in the world._ _

__And again the fear returns. That’s not something he can have._ _

__But then… can’t he? His dad has it. His dad has a wife and children so surely it can be possible._ _

__Dan’s voice breaks through the fog. “What’s wrong?”_ _

__Phil hadn’t realized he was frowning so deeply. He smoothes his face over into something more neutral. “Nothing.”_ _

__“Should I not have done that?”_ _

__Phil shakes his head. “I’m glad you did.”_ _

__“Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Dan asks._ _

__“I don’t. I’m not. I was… thinking.”_ _

__“Bout what?” Dan says through a mouthful of dough and syrup._ _

__Phil can’t help but smile. “Your reaction to those pancakes.”_ _

__“They’re good!”_ _

__“They are,” Phil says, taking a bite of his own, finally. “Didn’t know you’d like them _that_ much.”_ _

__“Oi. I don’t half ass things. If I like something I _like_ it.”_ _

__Phil nods. “Good know.”_ _

__Breakfast carries on like that until morning turns to afternoon and they’ve been sat there so long drinking refill after refill of coffee and tea that they’re hungry again. They order fish and chips and laugh and talk and Phil’s nerves have eased a lot. The giddiness however, has not._ _

__Dan insists on paying. Phil tries to argue but Dan says, “I’m taking you out on a date, Phil. If you pay that means you took me out and that’s not what’s happening today, yeah?”_ _

__Phil feels like he’s melting on the inside. “Ok. Thanks.”_ _

__The air outside is crisp but it’s still sunny enough to take the edge off. Phil shoves his hands in his pockets and tilts his face up to catch some of it on his face._ _

__“Getting that vitamin D?” Dan asks. “Looks like you could use it, mate.”_ _

__“Shut up.” Phil tries to bite back his smile. It’s probably ridiculous to keep smiling all the time, especially when Dan’s taking the piss out of him. “What’s next? Or is too much comfort food the end of the date?”_ _

__“Do you want that to be the end?”_ _

__Phil shakes his head._ _

__“Good. ‘Cause we’re going to the beach.”_ _


	6. Chapter 6

“This feels wrong. Beaches should be warm.” Dan’s shoulders are shrugged up all the way to his ears, his hands shoved into his pockets violently. 

“It’s December,” Phil reminds him. “It’d be even colder if it wasn’t sunny. We’re actually lucky right now.”

They’re stood at the edge of the shore, just far enough back that the water doesn’t reach their shoes. It’s a calm day; the waves aren’t nearly as violent as they usually are. 

It’s beautiful, really. The air is crisp and it tastes like salt. Clouds loom in the distance but they haven’t caught up to the sun just yet. 

Phil can’t keep his eyes off Dan. He barely even feels the cold.

“I’m bloody freezing,” Dan mutters. Apparently Phil doesn’t hold the same distraction for him.

“If my mum were here she’d tell you to do jumping jacks or go for a run or something.”

“Your mum sounds just as weird as you.”

“Weirder, actually,” Phil says. “But her advice is usually solid.”

“I refuse to do jumping jacks right now, mate. I’m on a date. I want this bloke to continue thinking I’m cool and mysterious.”

Phil smirks. “Oh you’re on a date? What’s this bloke like, then? Fit?”

“Very fit. His cheekbones could cut glass.”

Phil snorts, then quickly coughs to cover it. “Tell me more, I’m so curious.”

Dan squats down and picks a stone up off the sand. He launches it forward and they both watch it skip a few times over the water before it sinks. “He’s too good for me in every conceivable way. But I’m hoping he won’t realize that until he’s already too into me to change his mind.”

“Think you’re safe there,” Phil murmurs. 

Dan turns to look at him. “You already know you’re too good for me?”

“I’m already too into you, idiot.”

The smile that spreads across Dan’s face is like magic. It makes Phil feel that warm fluttering feeling again and he has to look away.

“Are you actually freezing?” Phil asks.

“Yes, very. Are you not?”

Phil shrugs. “Guess I’m used to it. Do you want to leave?”

“No. I wanted to go for a walk on the beach and collect shells with you and be all cute and romantic and shit.”

Phil laughs. “Ok well… do you still have that blanket in your car?”

Dan nods.

“This beach doesn’t have as many shells as the one near my house,” Phil rationalizes. “How about instead of a walk we have a nice sit under the blanket together? I reckon that’s just as cute and romantic and shit, yeah?”

“I’ll go get it,” Dan says. He looks pleased. “And the pillow to sit on.”

“Perfect.”

The blanket fits around them both like it was made especially for this precise occasion. The pillow does little to shield their asses from the little rocks underneath it, but Phil doesn’t care. His shoulder is pressed tightly against Dan’s under their fuzzy little shared cocoon. They tuck their knees up and huddle as they watch the waves.

“Better?” Phil asks.

Dan nods. “Hey Phil?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t stay with you.”

Phil is jarred from the pleasant feelings floating around in his chest. “What?”

“Like at your house,” Dan clarifies. “I can’t do that.”

“Oh, um. Ok.” There’s a momentary pause before he asks, “Why, exactly?”

“Because I like you.”

“You do?” Phil asks thickly.

Dan nods. “So if it’s ok, I’ll stay until I find a place. Maybe you could even like, help me find one.”

Phil smiles. “I can do that.”

“Then I need to figure out a job.”

“There’s no rush,” Phil says. “You can stay with me as long as you need.”

Dan shakes his head. “I’m done being a mess.”

“I’ll probably still be a bit of a mess,” Phil says.

“I mean, I’ll always be my own special brand of mess,” Dan clarifies. “But I’d like to be a mess with a home and a job.”

“I just want you to be safe,” Phil murmurs. “I don’t mind if you’re a mess but I’ll help you any way you want. Any way I can.”

Dan turns his head. They’re already so close that Phil only needs to lean in a little to press his lips to Dan’s. 

When he pulls back they’re both smiling.

They sit there together for a long time, talking and watching the sky and the water, stealing kisses and sharing giggles and to Phil it seems Dan is just as giddy as he is.

He can’t rightly say he’s sure it’s not all a dream, but if it is he hopes he never wakes up. Life is better like this, with someone to talk to, something to look forward to, something to make his gloomy island days a little brighter. 

It’s not about the kissing. The kissing is just a bonus.

It’s a nice bonus, though. Dan is so gentle, his lips chapped as ever but somehow still soft when they frame Phil’s.

They don’t move from their seaside blanket fort until the chill sets in so deep that their teeth start chattering. Phil promises Dan hot chocolate and endless Buffy on the sofa as they climb into Dan’s car. 

“And cuddles?” Dan asks as he fastens his seatbelt and turns his key in the ignition. His music starts playing automatically and it’s loud which saves Phil having to answer that particular question.

Because he doesn’t know how to answer it. He knows how he _wants_ to answer, knows how he wishes he could answer without having a spike of fear at the thought of their bodies pressed up together.

He wants nothing more than to press his body up against Dan’s. He wants to touch Dan’s skin and trace the curves of a face his eyes have already memorized. He wants everything, everything he’s seen in films and on telly, everything he’s read about that he always assumed would never even come close to being an option for him.

He wants it now. It’s an option now, a real tangible option and he wants it so badly that it freezes him up in terror right here next to Dan in his old beat up green car.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Phil blurts. 

“Do what?”

“Like, this.” Phil gestures in the space between them. “This stuff with me.”

Dan turns off his music. “Are we seriously back to this? How many different ways do I have to tell you I’m into you?”

“It’s not— I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m— you know. I’m not normal.”

“I’m not normal either.”

Phil sighs quietly. “Yeah but… I can’t touch you. That’s a little beyond whatever your deal is.”

Dan frowns. “Oh really? What’s my deal?”

“I guess I don’t know,” Phil admits. “All I know is that you’re… sad. And scared. Or you were when we were first met.”

“How do you _know_ that, though?” Dan asks. “How can you say you _know_ how I’m feeling inside my own head?”

“I’m… good at reading people.”

Dan’s eyes flick up to check his rear view before he looks over at Phil, just for a moment because he’s still driving, but enough that their eyes meet and Phil feels the searing intensity of it.

“How am I feeling now?” Dan asks.

Phil bites his lip. He’s fairly certain Dan knows he’s bullshitting and he doesn’t have the slightest plan for climbing out of the hole he’s dug for himself.

“Angry I’d reckon.”

“You reckon?” Dan asks. The skin is pulled tight over his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel. “I thought you knew.”

Phil’s teeth grind together as his jaw clenches shut. The only thing he could say now to save himself would be the whole truth. And he can’t do that, can he?

“Why did you know how I was feeling before, but now you can only guess?” Dan asks. 

Phil looks out the window. Is he really going to do this? He’s not sure he should, but he decides right here and now that he’s going to. If telling the truth means losing Dan, then so be it. Hiding isn’t working anymore. 

“Because… I felt it.”

“You felt it,” Dan repeats, his tone flat.

“Yes.” Phil waits for Dan to ask for clarification but it never comes.

Dan just drives. Phil doesn’t dare look at him.

They drive in silence, all the way to Phil’s house. Dan doesn’t turn off the engine after he’s pulled into Phil’s drive. He doesn’t even take off his seatbelt, just sits there and stares straight ahead, hands still on the steering wheel as the car idles.

Phil’s veins are full of ice water. “Are you… coming in?”

“I don’t know,” Dan says quietly. “Am I? Do you even want me to?”

“Yes, of course I do, Dan. It’s not— that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying? Because I’m not sure what to think anymore. Half the time it just feels like you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m not,” Phil says. He lifts his hand in an instinct he sometimes still forgets to ignore, the sentimental part of his brain trying to trick him into the kind of physical intimacy he simply can’t have. He catches himself and then lets it fall back down to rest on his own thigh. 

“You act like you know what’s in my head,” Dan says. “But if you did you’d be able to see how much I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“But you think _I_ should want to.”

Phil shakes his head. “I just think you deserve better,” he whispers.

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not,” Phil insists sadly. “I’ll make your life harder. I… I’ve never done this. I don’t know how to do this. And I’m not… I can’t be like a normal boyfriend, or whatever.”

“Nothing could make my life harder than it is right now,” Dan says. “Certainly not having someone like you around. Someone good.”

“You’ll want things, eventually. Things I don’t know how to give you— or if I even _can_ give you.”

Dan frowns. “Don’t you think I should be allowed to decide these things for myself? Don’t I have the right to decide for myself what I want?”

“You do.” Phil’s voice finally breaks when he says, “But I don’t know if I could handle you leaving if I let myself feel this anymore.”

“I’m not going to leave.”

“Ok,” Phil whispers. “I’m sorry. Will you please come inside?”

Dan ignores the request. “You believe me, don’t you?” he asks.

Phil looks at Dan. The sun is starting to set and the light is orange and gold where it falls across Dan’s face. “I want to,” he says. “I’m just… scared. I’m really scared. Because when you’re here I feel alive, and each time you leave it hurts a little more.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Dan says again. “Being around you makes me feel alive, too. I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

Phil nods, tearing his eyes from Dan’s to stare down at his hands wrung together in his lap. These awful, traitorous things, these fingers that have stolen his life away, kept him afraid and alone for as long as he can remember.

“I don’t care about anything that makes you different, Phil,” Dan says. “If anything it just makes me like you more.”

“Yeah,” Phil croaks. He wants so badly to believe it; he does. But everything he’s experienced in his life so far tells him that different is bad and eventually people get tired of having to try so hard. 

“Let’s just go inside now, ok?” Phil asks. He looks up. “Please, Dan.”

“Ok.” Dan turns the engine off and opens his door.

Phil opens his too and welcomes the rush of cold air that touches his face. He’s feeling a bit queasy and it has nothing to do with riding the winding roads that led them here. 

He climbs out of the car and closes the door and somehow Dan is already right there. “Phil,” he says, grabbing the back of Phil’s jacket and turning him around so they’re facing each other. Phil balls his hands up into fists and tries to keep them inside his sleeves as Dan pulls him in close, just grabs and holds on tight.

“I won’t…” Phil starts, staring into warm brown eyes that glisten with tears that have yet to fall. “I’m not easy. It’s gonna be hard. I can’t promise you anything.”

“I don’t care, Phil. I’m not here because I want something easy.”

“Why are you here?” Phil whispers.

“Because I fell for you.”

Phil opens his mouth to speak and Dan shuts him up with a kiss, more urgent than any that came before. 

“Don’t argue anymore, ok Phil? Please? Just let me be here. Let me get to know you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Phil nods, resting his forehead against Dan’s. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dan whispers. 

“I’m scared.”

Dan laughs wetly, and the sniffles. “I know.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No,” Dan says. “I’m the least scared I’ve been in so long, and that’s because of you.”

“Can we go inside?” Phil says, unballing his fists and grabbing onto the back of Dan’s jacket like he’s going to make a break for it. “I’m cold.”

“It’s your house, Phil. We can do whatever you want.”

“Let’s go inside and drink hot chocolate and watch Buffy.”

So that’s what they do. They go inside and Dan makes them both hot chocolate. Phil fetches ever blanket he can find and they sit together on the sofa on watch episode after episode of Buffy, until they’re both yawning and Phil’s sure he can’t make it through another episode.

“Are you sleepy?” Dan asks softly.

Phil nods. “You?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while since I got proper sleep.” Dan yawns a perfectly times yawn and ends it with a little giggle. “Case in point.”

“You should take my bed tonight.” 

“What— no way.”

“Yes way,” Phil insists. “You said it yourself, it’s my house, I can do whatever I want l. I want to sleep on the sofa.”

There’s a long pause.

“Or… we could both sleep in the bed,” Dan says quietly.

Phil’s heart skips a beat.

“I wouldn’t touch you,” Dan says. “I wouldn’t do anything, I just—”

“I can’t,” Phil interrupts. He can’t forget himself, as much as he might want to. He’s just not ready for the potential of it all going wrong. “I’m sorry Dan.”

Dan shakes his head. “Don’t be. I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, then stands up. “I’ll take the bed if you really want me to. But just for tonight. Goodnight, Phil.”

“Dan…”

Dan shakes his head. “It’s ok. I’m fine. It’s probably better this way, yeah? It’s been… well. It’s been a lot today.”

“It’s been good,” Phil says. “I’m sorry I keep ruining it.”

Dan shakes his head again. “It’s been good. A lot doesn’t mean bad. Just… a lot. We should both get sleep.”

“Ok,” Phil says quietly. “I hope you get sleep.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Phil. Goodnight.”

“Night.” He watches Dan walk away and climb up the stairs before he flops back down onto the sofa. He’s absolutely convinced he’s not going to sleep a single moment tonight, but he hopes Dan will.

He hopes Dan is feeling less turmoil than he is right now. He hopes Dan knows that his reticence has nothing to do with what he actually wants.

He hopes his dad was right. He hasn’t forgotten what his dad said. He hasn’t forgotten for one single second all day long that his dad said there _is_ hope, that he’s not just deluding himself that he can have something good like this, someone like Dan. 

He hasn’t forgotten. He just doesn’t know how to do it. 

There’s no guarantee he won’t have as violent a reaction as he had last time. There’s no guarantee Dan won’t realize Phil’s a freak and he’s made a big mistake. There’s no guarantee Phil won’t end up alone again, regretting every day that he didn’t exercise restraint and self control. 

But he’s so tired. He’s tired of holding himself back. He’s tired of being forced into restraint. It hurts, especially now that he has a taste of what an unrestrained life could look like.

He doesn’t know what would hurt more, holding himself at arm’s length from Dan forever or losing him altogether. He feels paralyzed by it all, the weight of this decision pinning him down, sitting on his chest like an anvil. 

He can’t breathe anymore like this. 

He digs his phone from his pocket and jabs his finger on his parents’ number. It rings and rings and just as he’s about to pick up someone answers.

“‘Ello?” It’s his mum, and she’s clearly still half asleep.

“Hi mum.”

“Phil?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?” she croaks. 

“I dunno, I’m sorry. It’s late.”

“You alright love? What’s wrong?”

He sighs. “I dunno. Nothing. Everything.”

“That’s not very helpful, Phil.”

“I know. Sorry. I was actually ringing for dad.”

There’s a moment’s pause before she asks, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to wake him?”

Phil nods before he remembers she can’t actually see him. “Yes please.”

He hears muffled shuffling noises and unintelligible whispered words and then his father’s voice, gruff and tired but still kind. Still gentle. “Phil?”

“Hi dad.”

“Are you alright?”

“Um… yeah. I mean, I’m fine, technically speaking, like I’m not ill or injured but I dunno if I’d say I’m alright, like. In my head, I’m—”

“Hold on, lad. Let me get up.”

“No, don’t, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Hush now. I’m getting up. Your mother is tired.”

“Ok,” Phil says quietly. “Sorry. Thanks.” He pushes himself up to sitting and hugs his knees to his chest as he waits. 

It feels like an eternity before he hears his dad’s voice again. “Now then. What’s going on?”

“It’s just…”

“Training,” his dad finishes.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

Phil rests his forehead against his knees. “I don’t know… how to do it. Or if I even should.”

“You’re thinking about this in the middle of the night?”

“Well… yeah. There’s— there’s someone.”

“Someone there with you? That mate your mum was talking about?”

Phil chuckles. “Mate. Yeah.”

“And they’re worth training for? You trust them?”

Phil doesn’t have to think about it. When it’s put to him like that, he realizes instantly that he’s being an idiot. That he’s been an idiot this whole time.

“He’s worth it. I trust him.”

“So what’s the problem?” his dad asks.

“I guess… I guess I just want you to tell me it’s the right thing. That it can work.”

“I’m living proof.”

“Yeah,” Phil murmurs. “Reckon you are.”

“You’ll be alright, Phil. It’s the right thing. It’s the only thing, if you want to have someone.”

Phil’s heart stutters for a moment. “Have someone?” he croaks.

“Sorry,” his dad says. “Am I supposed to pretend I don’t know?”

“Does mum know?”

“Don’t think so. We’ve never discussed it.”

“How…?”

“You weren’t exactly discreet in your internet searches back in the day, Phil.”

He could die. Right now he’d be happy for the earth to just quietly swallow him up whole. “Oh my god,” he chokes.

“No matter,” Nigel says. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to get used to it. And it’s not really my business, is it?”

That stings a little, but all things considered Phil can’t feel much more than relief in this moment. “Ok,” he says quietly. “Well thanks.”

“I can’t make the decision for you, but this is the one time in life I really wish I could.”

Phil is pulled up short. He’s never heard his dad say anything like that before. The sincerity is almost uncomfortable for how rare it is. 

“You really think I should do it, eh?”

“I think if you’re thinking about it this much, yes, you should do it. If he’s a good person and you trust him to be patient.”

“Was mum patient?” Phil asks.

“Kathryn is and always has been my angel. Don’t know who I’d be without her. Reckon I’d be… well, kind of like you are now, if I can be perfectly frank. Sad and alone.”

“Wow dad. Thanks.”

“Sometimes being a parent means telling the ugly truth, my boy. But I think there’s hope for you yet. Just don’t give up. It’ll be hard at first. But you’re strong. You’re a Lester, after all.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not,” Phil says quietly. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m an island and maybe it’s supposed to be that way.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Phil huffs a surprised little laugh. 

“Sorry,” Nigel says. “But it is. You are not an island. You’ve made yourself into one but it’s not who you’re meant to be.”

“Who am I meant to be?” Phil asks.

“Whoever you want to be, Phil. You just have to be a little bit brave, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Phil nods to himself. “Yeah. Thanks dad.”

“Alright then. Can I go back to sleep now?”

Phil laughs. “Yeah. Go back to sleep. And tell mum I’m sorry for waking her up.”

“Alright. Good luck, son.”

“Thanks, dad.” He hangs up and leaves his phone on the sofa before heading up the stairs. 

He doesn’t even knock, just turns the knob on his bedroom door and pushes it open.

There’s a soft gasp in the darkness and then, “Phil?”

“Did I scare you?”

“Yes you bloody scared me, you fucking lunatic. What is it? Did you want to switch?”

Soft yellow light floods the room as Dan clicks on the reading lamp next to the bed. He’s not wearing a shirt and his hair is adorably mussed, but it’s clear he hadn’t been sleeping.

“No,” Phil says. “I don’t want to switch.” Something in his tone must speak to Dan, because he sits up a little straighter against the headboard and doesn’t ask any more questions.

Phil walks over to the edge of the bed and looks down at Dan. He’s just so beautiful, looking up at Phil with exactly what Phil needs right now: patience. Patience and chocolate eyes and chapped pink lips.

Phil steps closer, every movement slow and deliberate. He doesn’t look away from Dan’s face, not until he’s sat on the edge of the bed and he lets his eyes wander down the slope of his neck and the curve of a shoulder, down across a mostly hairless chest and brown nipples and down to where the blanket covers his stomach. 

He looks back up to Dan’s eyes. “I want to touch you.”

“I want you to,” Dan says softly. “So bad. But I know you can’t, and I’m ok with that.”

“I can,” Phil whispers. “I just don’t know what will happen.”

“Won’t you get sick? Like last time?”

“I might. But I might not. And… maybe the more I do it the easier it gets.”

“Maybe?” Dan asks.

Phil nods. He knows Dan’s asking for answers but Phil’s not ready for that part.

“If it hurts will you still be here?” Phil whispers. “Will you stay and take care of me?”

“Yes. Always.” He reaches up and cups Phil’s jaw. “I’m here.”

Phil feels it. He feels it in his bones. Dan is here, and Dan will still be here after what Phil’s about to do. 

His own hand floats up slowly until it hovers beside Dan’s face, hesitant. 

“It’s ok, Phil. I’m here.”

Phil smiles. Dan’s skin is as soft as he’d imagined.


End file.
